


Say It

by palominopup



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Firefighter Dean, Helicopter Pilot Cas, M/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2016-09-26
Packaged: 2018-08-17 11:16:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8141812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/palominopup/pseuds/palominopup
Summary: A tropical storm moves up the eastern coast, leaving high winds and rain. The men and women of the Savannah Fire Department and Angel Flight are still on duty, trying to save lives. When the call goes out that a helicopter has crashed, Dean and the rest of Station Seven rush to the scene. Dean says a silent prayer of thanks that his boyfriend had the night off, but at the crash site, his world implodes.This is Dean's story of hope and regrets.





	

**Author's Note:**

> No MCD. It's me - so there is a happy ending.
> 
> It is unedited, so if you see a mistake, let me know so I can fix it.
> 
> I was a firefighter and have worked with air evac crews, but my hospital rotations as a paramedic are a distant memory. Any mistakes are mine alone and I hope you unsung heroes in healthcare will forgive me.

_ _

 

 

_“Ground Control, this is Angel Flight HH403, leaving our location for organ transfer. Air time, twenty minutes.” Cas waited for Control’s confirmation and pressed on the collective with his feet, throttle gripped in his right hand, he pulled back and the helicopter rose. The wind and rain was going to make flying a bitch, but the heart up at Hilton Head was going to a fourteen year old boy. He glanced back at Meg, the flight nurse and Zar, the FPC. He grinned when Meg stuck out her tongue at him. He didn’t get to work with these two often, but Harry’s wife went into early labor and they called Cas in to cover for the other pilot for this run._

  
_With the wind gusts at forty knots, he was slightly off course as he headed up the coast. His eyes moved rapidly from his instruments to the windshield. He was flying low to avoid the worst of the winds from the tail end of the tropical storm. Even though it was only six, the sky was dark and he could barely make out landmarks below him. He was somewhere over Dutch Island. He banked to the left and opened his mouth to tell Hilton Head Hospital he’d be adding ten minutes to his time when the flock of gulls hit the acrylic window in front of him. Blood, feathers and bone smeared and his visibility was shot to hell. Cursing, Cas looked down at his instruments. It wouldn’t be the first time he flew blind._

  
_The Bell 206 Long Ranger’s engine screeched and the aircraft yawed to the left. “Hold on,” he shouted to his crew. He was holding the stick with every ounce of strength he had, but she was oscillating. “Mayday…this is Angel Flight HH403…Latitude 32.028…Longitude Negative 81.016…Mayday…” He heard Meg squeal as the chopper pitched forward. One of the birds must have hit the engine. “We’re going down,” Cas kept his voice calm, but his mind was in overdrive. Dean. They fought last night. Dean went home mad and they hadn’t talked since. Dean didn’t even know he was in the air. It was his day off. He was supposed to be cleaning house and doing laundry. Pushing those thoughts from his brain, he tried to see past the blood and guts on the windshield to find a place to land. It would be a rough landing. By his calculations, he was over marshland._

  
_“Hold on…hold on…” he screamed as the ground got closer. He held her steady, only eight feet from the ground now. The gust of wind came from the east and he felt her listing. “No…no…no…” The next seconds seemed to pass in slow motion. One of the rotor blades hit first. Two things happened at once. The metal blade sheared off, but not before it sent the helicopter spinning end over end and Cas screamed Dean’s name. Then everything went black._

  
They were watching the television in the day room. According to the news station, the tropical storm was losing power and turning north. Outside, the wind and rain were beating against the windows of the fire station. Chuck spoke up, saying what they were all thinking. “Kind of surprised we haven’t been called out.” The rest of the crew gave a collective groan.

  
“Thanks, Asshat, you’ve jinxed us. We’ll probably be rolling all night,” Dean growled, throwing a empty water bottle at him. There was a lot of grumbling and then the tones sounded. Everyone glared at Chuck, who just shrugged and held up his hands.

  
**_Engine Seven, Rescue One, Helicopter down, just north of Gray’s Creek, Whitemarsh Island._ **

  
Captain Lafitte was the first to move, standing and heading towards the door that led to the bay where the trucks waited. “Whitemarsh Island? That’s out of our district, Cap,” Dean called after him.

  
“Winchester, I’m sure in this storm, IFD is up to their asses in alligators. Let’s move it, boys.” The eight man crew gathered in the bay and began pulling on their turnout gear. Inside Squad, Dean, as Lieutenant and ranking officer on the truck, took the passenger seat.

  
“Squad One, responding to helicopter down, Gray’s Creek.” He heard the captain give his response and the two huge bay doors began to rise. As soon as they were high enough for the trucks to clear, Dean motioned for Victor to move out. While Victor pulled the big truck out of the station, Dean hit the siren and lights. “Fuck me,” Dean said as the wind and rain buffeted the truck.

  
“That’s Cas’ job,” came Garth’s teasing voice from the back.

  
Dean didn’t reply, he just stuck his hand between the seats and flipped Garth the finger. At the mention of his boyfriend, Dean said a silent thanks that Cas wasn’t flying tonight. Cas was one of the helicopter pilots for Angel Flight, the Air Evac service that served the Savannah, Georgia area.

  
**_Engine Seven, Rescue One, be advised, helicopter is an air evac. No patient on board._**

  
“Ten-four, Engine Seven and Rescue One copy helicopter is an air evac.” Benny answered for both vehicles.

  
“Damn it,” Dean said, voice filled with concern. His boyfriend might not be flying, but he knew most of the pilots and flight crews.

  
On a good day, doing the speed limit, it would take them fifteen minutes to get to the island from Station Seven. Running hot, even with the weather, they crossed the bridge onto Whitemarsh in less than ten because no one else was stupid enough to be out in this weather. When they arrived at the scene, the Highway Patrol was already there. Blue strobe lights lit up the overcast afternoon. Dean was out of the truck first and he grabbed the med bag from the compartment near the back of the truck. As an EMT, he’d have to help with any injuries until the ambulances showed up.

  
The engine shuddered to a stop beside him. The captain strode towards the scene to assess the situation. His team grabbed their equipment and followed him. His feet stumbled for a few steps when he saw the familiar red, white and blue of one of the Angel Flight choppers. It lay on its side in the muck that made up the marshes of the coastal islands. One of the rotor blades had sheared off and was near the road. The smell of fuel was heavy. He thought he’d prepared himself, but seeing the wreckage almost brought him to his knees.

  
These weren’t strangers in a car accident. The majority of the employees of Angel Flight had been to Cas’ house for barbeques and football parties. He prayed it wasn’t as bad as it looked. As he got to the edge of the road where the soft shoulder turned into swampy mud, the captain turned to him. “Dean, give your bag to Vic and get back to the truck.” Dean’s mind didn’t comprehend what Benny was saying to him.

  
“What? Why?” Dean kept moving forward, a tingling in the back of his mind making him suddenly cold. It was the look on Benny’s face that did him in. He stopped. “Cas? No…no…Cas…” He began to run. Benny caught him and held on.

  
“Dean, he’s alive. He’s alive. Just…you need to let Vic handle this one.” Dean fought against his captain’s strong arms. Garth and Victor were already thigh-deep in the muck, holding the backboard over their heads. The captain motioned for Cole to hold him and Benny gently took the med bag from him and headed for the downed aircraft. Dean began to shake. “It can’t be him. He’s off tonight. He’s off. It’s a mistake.”

  
One of the highway patrol officers stepped over to them. Cole eased off on his hold. “Lieutenant Winchester?”

  
“Yeah.” Dean didn’t take his eyes off Victor and Garth as they climbed inside the chopper. There were three people on board for every call, the pilot, a paramedic and a flight nurse. Dean's numb mind, still in denial that Cas could be in that mangled metal, felt a surge of anger at his boyfriend. Why didn’t he call to tell Dean he was flying today?

  
“The pilot…Captain Lafitte said he was your boyfriend.” Dean shook his head, hands gripping Cole’s bunker coat. Dean’s mouth went dry. Dean had dinner with Cas the previous night, they’d had a fight. A stupid fight. Cas was the one who said it first, a few months back. Those three words were easy for Cas. Dean felt it and he showed it, but saying it was different. Saying it meant a future. The fight wasn’t about that though. It was about moving in together. Dean practically lived at Cas’ house anyway. Why did they have to make it official?

  
“No. Cas is at home. It was his day off. He’s doing laundry…”

  
The officer exchanged a look with Cole and Dean pushed the other firefighter away. “It’s not him.” He backed away from them and then turned and ran. Running on a scene wasn’t allowed. It was drilled into them at the academy. Dean was past the point of caring.

  
“Dean,” Cole called after him, but Dean was beyond listening. His boots slipped in the muck. The rain was coming down so hard. He saw Victor backing out of the wreck holding one end of the backboard. Sirens approached and two ambulances came around the bend. Dean saw the distinctive helmet of a pilot, white with red and blue swishes of color, as the person was lifted out. He froze.

  
Around him, his crew and the teams from the ambulances were shouting. He caught snippets.

  
“Flight nurse…didn’t make it.”

  
“FPC…broken femur…alert.”

  
“Pilot…Novak…unconscious…pupils equal, but dilated…compound fracture tib-fib…” The words faded. The only one Dean heard was Novak. Cas. Garth and Victor were struggling to keep the backboard out of the muck. Dean saw splashes of red on the flightsuit. One of the legs was stained with blood. There was blood on the pilot’s face. Cas’ face. A low, inhuman moan escaped Dean’s mouth. Then Benny was there, in his face.

  
“Pull yourself together, Brother. He’s alive. Dean, you can ride in the ambulance with him.” Dean nodded and allowed himself to be led to the ambulance. Garth touched his shoulder gently as soon as they put the backboard on the stretcher. The paramedics lifted it into the back and one of them ran to the front of the vehicle. The other crawled in beside Cas.

  
“You riding?” The paramedic glanced at him, but his main focus was on Cas. He was preparing to start an IV. Dean didn’t answer. He just climbed up and sat on the bench next to the stretcher. He was a trained EMT, as well as a firefighter, but he didn’t try to help. He could only stare at Cas’ face. There was a gash above his left eye where the helmet’s visor had broken off leaving a jagged edge of Plexiglas. The paramedic got the fluids going and then banged on the wall separating the cab from the back.

  
The ambulance jolted forward and Dean took one last look out the rear windows. The flight medic’s stretcher was being loaded in the other ambulance. A yellow tarp covered a still figure on the asphalt. The nurse wouldn’t be needing a ride to the hospital.

  
Dean didn't remember much about the next few hours. He sat in the waiting room. When his crew finished at the scene, they arrived to stay with him. That's what friends do. That's what family did. Someone called Sam and Dean remembered his brother saying something to him and holding his hand for awhile.

  
When the doctor finally came out to the waiting room, he asked for the Novak family. Dean stood up. He was listed as Cas' next of kin. Cas was listed as his. "He suffered a severe blow to the head, but his helmet saved it from being life threatening. The tib-fib fracture required immediate surgery, but the orthopedic surgeon is optimistic it will heal with no disability. He had..."

  
"His name is Cas," Dean said, his voice steely. He felt Sam and Benny touching him. Trying to ground him.

  
"Cas had some bruising in his lower abdomen...probably from the seatbelt. We did an MRI to rule out internal injuries. There is bruising to his spleen, but no bleeding.”

  
“I want to see him,” Dean whispered.

  
“He’s in recovery and we’ll be moving him to a room in about twenty minutes. You can go to admitting and get a room number.” The doctor turned and disappeared through the double doors.

  
“See, he’s going to be fine,” Sam reassured him, his arm looped around his shoulder and pulled Dean to his side.

  
Fine. Cas would be fine. Dean exhaled shakily. “Yeah…he’s okay.” Benny patted his back and gathered the crew to leave.

  
“Stay as long as you need, Winchester. If you can’t make your next shift, let me know and I’ll get someone to cover it.”

  
“Thanks, Cap.” The waiting room seemed a lot bigger now that the seven members of his crew, still outfitted in their turnout gear, were gone. Only Sam remained. The two brothers sat down.

  
“You need me to call Bobby and Ellen?” Dean shook his head.

  
“Not yet. They’ll want to come down. I’ll give them a shout once he’s in a room.” They drank thick hospital coffee that could raise the dead and watched the clock on the wall. When the hands reached the hour, Dean stood up. “Guess I need to get to admitting. They’ll probably need his info.”

  
“You want me to come with you?” Sam offered.

  
Dean shook his head. “Nah, it’s late. I’ll text you his room number and you can visit tomorrow.”

  
He strode down the hall and passed the nursing station. 407…409…411. He stopped and pushed open the door. Cas was in the bed, a nurse stood over him adjusting the IV drip. She looked up and smiled. Dean returned her smile and came closer.

  
The cut at Cas’ hairline had been stitched neatly. He had a few superficial scratches on his cheeks, but they wouldn’t scar. He was pale, his lashes dark against his skin. His left leg was elevated and in a cast. There was a nasal cannula pumping oxygen and a clear bag of fluids was dripping down the tube to his arm. “His vitals are good,” the nurse said, taking in his still damp uniform. He’d had the crew take his turnout gear back to the station. She left him, shutting the door behind her. Dean pulled a chair to the bedside and sat down. He took Cas’ hand in his. It was cool.

  
“You scared the fuck out of me, Cas.” Dean watched Cas’ chest rise and fall. “I’m sorry about last night. It was stupid.” He brought Cas’ hand to his mouth and kissed each knuckle. He waited.

  
A noise startled him out of his sleep. He lifted his head off the bed. He was confused for a second and then everything came flooding back. A doctor and nurse were on the other side of the bed. The doctor was shining a light into Cas’ eyes. Without speaking to Dean, he placed his stethoscope on Cas’ chest. When he was done listening, he hung the instrument around his neck and met Dean’s gaze.

  
“I’m Doctor Cain.”

  
“Dean Winchester. Cas is my boyfriend.” God, that sounded so juvenile. Like they were teens going steady. They were more than that.

  
“You are listed as his next of kin, so I can answer any questions you may have.”

  
“Why isn’t he awake yet?” The clock on the wall showed Dean had been asleep for two hours.

  
“We don’t know. His vitals are good. There are no indications of a severe head injury. His blood and renal function tests are well within normal range. The CT scan did show a concussion, but I had the neurosurgeon on staff look at it to make sure we didn’t overlook anything. We did have to put pins and a plate in his leg. The tib-fib fracture was compound, as you probably know. Fortunately, the breaks were clean and he’ll regain full use of it. The MRI showed no internal bleeding. He’s lucky.”

  
“Yeah,” Dean mumbled. The scratching of the doctor’s pen on Cas’ chart could be heard over the steady beeps of the monitor. To Dean it was like nails on a chalkboard.

  
Once they were gone, Dean stood up and stretched. His back hurt from sitting in the plastic chair for hours. He moved to the window. The rain had slowed to a drizzle. He had another two hours until daylight.

  
The shift changed and the hallway bustled with activity. A young nurse stepped inside and after nodding at Dean, she took Cas’ vital signs. She logged them into his chart and left him alone again. She must have felt sorry for him because she brought a tray in around seven-thirty. “I brought you something to eat.”

  
He thanked her and lifted the plastic dome and saw bacon, scrambled eggs and toast. There was a cup of coffee and a small container of orange juice too. He ate standing up.

  
Benny arrived soon after he finished. “How is he?”

  
“You don’t have to whisper, Cap. He hasn’t regained consciousness yet.” Dean ignored his captain’s concerned frown. “Have you heard any news about the accident?”

  
“Control got Cas’ mayday at eighteen-oh-six. FAA investigators arrived on scene after you left. The consensus seems to be that a flock of gulls collided with the chopper. From the time Cas sent the mayday to the crash, radar clocked him for two miles. He must have been fighting the controls to get her down safely.”

  
“How’s the co-pilot?” Dean felt ashamed not to have thought of the man before now. He was in the same hospital. He might be on the same floor.

  
“He suffered a broken femur, but will make a full recovery. He was alert at the scene.” Dean nodded.

  
“And the nurse?” Dean knew she didn’t make it, but he wondered why.

  
“When the rotor blade hit the ground, it sent the chopper into rolls. The blade sheared off into two pieces. One broke through the egress door.” Benny paused and Dean knew his captain was seeing the carnage in his head. “It severed her neck.”

  
“Fuck.”

  
The two men remained silent, both lost in their own thoughts. There was a knock on the doorframe and Dean looked over to find Crowley, Cas’ boss and the owner of Angel Flight. He glanced at Cas’ still form and gave a nod to Benny before turning his full attention to Dean.

  
“Dean." Crowley's greeting was short. "How is he?”

  
Dean gave him all the information he had and then had to ask, “Why was he in the air? It was his day off.”

  
“Harry Spangler’s wife went into early labor. We got a call from the medical center. They had a heart at Hilton Head.” Dean knew time was of the essence when it came to organ transplants. It was normal to use air ambulances to transport them from a deceased patient in one hospital to another dying patient hundreds of miles away. Cas enjoyed those flights. Usually his runs ended in death or worse. “Castiel was next on call,” Crowley’s voice was flat. Cas and Crowley had their differences sometimes, but they respected each other. “The FAA investigators took the chopper, but their primary inspection ruled out pilot error. Castiel will want to know that when he wakes up.”

  
The morning wore on. Visitors came and went. Sam must have called Bobby and Ellen after all, because they showed up with a bunch of balloons tied to a stuffed raccoon. Dean laughed. Cas would love it. Raccoons were a sore subject for Cas. The little bandits were constantly getting into his trash and once had gotten into his car after he’d forgotten to close the sunroof. It cost him a couple of thousand dollars to repair the leather seats of his Land Rover.

  
Doctor Cain came in after lunch. Before he could greet Dean, he fired off, “Why isn’t he waking up?”

  
“I don’t know. I’ve asked for a consult from neurology. Doctor Mills is one of the best in the state.” Was that supposed to make him feel better? The man he loved was just lying there. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He’d never said those words. What if Cas didn’t wake up? What if he died wondering if Dean loved him?

  
Dean waited until Doctor Cain left before taking his seat next to Cas again. He picked up his hand. “Cas, listen to me. You’ve got to stop fucking with me, okay? I know you’re mad at me, but this silent treatment shit isn’t fair. I need you, Babe.” A single tear burned his cheek. “Cas…please…I…I…love you. I love you. And I want to spend the rest of my life proving it to you.” Cas remained still except for the rise and fall of his chest.

  
It was Bobby and Sam that dragged him from the hospital. They took him home to shower and eat a good meal. He protested and wanted to return, but Bobby ordered him to take a quick nap. Dean made him promise to wake him in an hour. He didn’t think he’d sleep. When he woke it was dark outside. “Damn it,” he snarled, jumping up from the couch. The house was dark except for a light coming from the kitchen. Bobby stood at the stove. “God damn it, Bobby…I told you to wake me up.”

  
Bobby didn’t turn around. “You needed to sleep, Dean.”

  
“You…you promised,” Dean’s voice sounded small and Bobby sighed and went to him. He pulled Dean into his arms.

  
“I just…I was worried about you, Dean,” he said gruffly. All the anger left Dean.

  
“I need to go. God, what if he woke up?”

  
“Sam and Ellen have been sitting with him, Son. There’s been no change.” No change. It had been over twenty-four hours since the crash.

  
The neurologist, Doctor Jodi Mills, came to see him later that night. She looked tired. She called it a coma. She explained that they were monitoring Cas’ vitals and blood work. He was breathing on his own and she said that was a point in the plus column.  
Nurses changed shifts three times a day. They were kind, bringing him food, coffee and even wheeled in a cot. On the seventh day, Benny came by. Dean was playing a song on his guitar. His possessions had taken up residence in the room. Clothes, books, a bag of gummy bears…added to the mix of flowers friends and coworkers had sent. “How are you doing?”

  
Dean noticed about the third day, people stopped asking how Cas was and started focusing on Dean’s wellbeing. “I’m fine.” He felt guilty for not taking his shifts, but the captain assured him everything was cool. Benny had filed vacation paperwork for him and turned it in to the battalion.

  
“I thought you’d want to know the FAA report is final. It was in the newspaper this morning. Cas is not accountable for the crash.”

  
“I never had a doubt, Benny. Cas is one of the best pilots they’ve got.” Before becoming a medivac pilot, Cas served in the Army, doing his time in the Middle East.

  
“The co-pilot is being released today. The funeral for the nurse…it’ll be tomorrow.” Dean found out the nurse was Meg Masters. She’d sat on Cas’ back porch and got knee-walking drunk a few weeks before. She told Cas that if he didn’t marry Dean, she’d steal him for herself. Everyone had laughed, but Cas brought up living together that night. Dean brushed him off. Marriage? Dean couldn’t wrap his head around living together.

  
Later, Dean was reading a magazine article to Cas about the new Camero’s engine design, when he stopped. He couldn’t breathe. His heart was pounding. As always, he turned to humor. “Jeez, don’t tell my baby I’m getting excited over another car.” The magazine fell to the floor. He reached for Cas’ hand. “I love you, Cas. Please, man, you can’t leave me. You gotta wake up and hear me say it. I can’t do this without you. I want to wake up with you every damn day for the rest of our lives.”

  
Anger reared its ugly head again. “Damn you, Cas. Why didn’t you call me? What kind of fucking moron takes a helicopter up during a tropical storm? Jesus Christ, you can’t do this to me…you can’t fuckin’ leave me…not before I say it.”

  
“Some say a patient in a coma can hear those around him,” a voice from behind him said. Dean spun around. Missouri, the first nurse he’d met, was standing there. She took good care of Cas. She massaged his arms and right leg every shift. She was the one that administered the medication to prevent seizures.

  
“I know,” Dean murmured, contrite at being caught raging at Cas.

  
“The human brain is an amazing organ. Have faith.” Faith? It was hard for Dean to even consider that when the man he loved was lying in a hospital bed.

  
“It’s been eight days.”

  
Missouri nodded. Of course, she knew how long it had been. She was Cas’ nurse. She’d been there from the beginning.

  
On the tenth day, Dean was forced out of the hospital by Sam and Benny. They took him by his house to get some clean clothes and then they stopped by The Roadhouse to have some lunch. Dean grudgingly admitted Ellen’s cheeseburgers were a lot better than the hospital food he’d been surviving on. When he returned to Cas’ room, Zar was there. The cast came up to his hip and he leaned heavily on his crutches. He gave a brief smile to Dean.

  
“You doing okay, man?” Dean asked, putting down his duffle on the unmade cot that was his home away from home.

  
“I’m good. How is he?” Zar nodded towards Cas.

  
“He’s fine…physically. Sorry I didn’t make it to Meg’s funeral. I know y’all were tight.” A shadow fell across Zar’s face.

  
“We were.” There was an awkward silence, broken only by the sounds of the hospital around them. “Cas did all he could,” Zar whispered. Even though the pilot had been cleared of any fault, Dean knew how easy it would be for the man to blame Cas. “I should go.”

  
“You don’t have to leave. I was just going to read to him for awhile.” Dean held up the paperback by Clive Cussler. “He hates the Dirk Pitt series. I figured if I read the latest one to him, he’d get mad enough to wake up.”

  
“Good idea,” Zar said, grinning.

  
That night, Dean ate his meal from the cafeteria downstairs. He saw Doctor Mills and threw up his hand in greeting as he exited, a Coke for later held in his other hand. She motioned for him to walk with her. She had her hands stuffed in the pockets of her white coat. “I have to tell you that I admire your loyalty to Mr. Novak. He’s lucky to have you.”

  
The elevator doors opened and they stepped inside. “I’m the lucky one. Cas deserves someone better than me.”

  
She looked at him sharply. “Why do you say that?”

  
Dean shrugged and had a three second debate with himself before blurting out. “He can say how he feels…what he wants…I’ve never told him I loved him.” Dean looked away, biting hard on his lower lip to keep from bawling like a baby.

  
“He probably knows,” she said softly.

  
“He talks about a future with me and…God…I want it. I want to wake up every morning with him. I want it all. The house, the two car garage…the fucking white picket fence…” She waited for him to finish, but he couldn’t. The doors slid open. It wasn’t Cas’ floor. Doctor Mills put her hands across the frame so the doors wouldn’t close. Expecting pity…or at least disinterest in her eyes, Dean was surprised to see her smiling.

  
“Tell him. It’s not too late. He’s a fighter. You need to fight too.” Dean stared at the shiny doors after they closed. He could make out his blurry reflection. Squaring his shoulders, he processed her words.

  
Around ten, the hospital grew quiet. Dean finished another chapter and dog-eared the page. “That’s it for tonight, Babe. I’m beat.” He put the paperback on the table next to Cas’ bed. He took Cas’ hand in his and touched the white ID bracelet with his other one. “Look, Cas, you know I suck at stuff like this…” He took a deep breath, held it for a few seconds and then released it with a sigh. “When you wake up, I’m going to move in with you. I’m going to buy you a ring and pop the question. You deserve better, but you’re going to be stuck with me, so you might as well get used to it.” He stood up and kissed Cas gently on his lips. “I love you, Cas.”

  
He squeezed Cas’ hand before turning away to get ready for bed. At first, he thought his mind was playing tricks on him. He paused, mid-step. “Say it again.” The words were coarse and barely audible. Dean spun around, staring wide-eyed at his boyfriend’s face. Blue eyes looked back at him. Eyes he hadn’t seen in such a long time. He rushed back to the bed.

  
“Oh, God, Cas…you’re awake…you’re here…let me get the doctors…” Dean wasn’t able to think. Cas was awake.

  
“Say it again,” Cas repeated, voice a bit stronger, but still raw with disuse.

  
“What, Baby? What do you want me to say?” A smile touched Cas’ lips. And he lifted his hand, reaching for Dean’s.

  
“…you love…me.” Dean clasped Cas’ hand and brought it to his lips.

  
“I love you. I love you so damn much. You scared me so fuckin’ bad, Cas.” Dean reluctantly pushed the call button. He didn’t want to have his time with Cas interrupted by doctors and nurses, but knew it was necessary.

  
The next thirty minutes was chaos. Doctor Mills snapped out orders for tests and asked Cas question after question. Dean refused to be pushed aside, unwilling to let go of Cas’ hand. It was over. Cas was awake and everything was going to be fine.

  
***

  
Three days later, Cas sat next to him in the Impala. Dean had brought him clothes from home and the old trenchcoat looked good on him. The cast would be on for a few more weeks, but he'd be able to get around with crutches. The backseat was filled with all the stuff they’d accumulated after two weeks in the hospital. Dean couldn’t stop touching Cas. He had to reassure himself that it wasn’t a dream.He put the key in and started the car. Baby's engine rumbled to life.

Cas head swiveled around at the sound of a helicopter. Dean’s eyes lifted as they watched an Angel Flight chopper hovering on the roof of the hospital.

  
They hadn’t talked about it. Their conversations were about their future, the crash, Meg’s death and other things, but they’d avoided the elephant in the room. “As soon as I’m cleared, I’m going to fly again, Dean.”

  
Dean shut his eyes tightly and nodded. He knew it, but to have it put into words was still like a stab to his heart. “I figured.”

  
“Dean, look at me.” Dean shut off the ignition and turned his head. Cas was looking at him, head tilted slightly. “Talk to me.”

  
“I’d be a hypocrite if I said I didn’t want you to go up again.”

  
Cas’ smile was sad. “Yes, you would. From the time we first met, I was terrified every time you had a shift. It scared me so bad…the thought of you going into a burning building and never coming out…never coming home to me. But it’s what you do…what you love.” He reached over and touched Dean’s cheek, cupping it with his palm. “You wouldn’t be the Dean I fell in love with if you gave it up.”

  
Dean nodded, his eyes glassy with unshed tears. “Yeah, ditto. I’m not gonna lie though, I’m still going to worry every time you go up.”

  
“Fair enough,” Cas said. “Let’s go home, Dean.”


End file.
